


Kinky Blue

by addie_cakes



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Drunken Confessions, First Kisses, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Phone Calls, musings, some sexual references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addie_cakes/pseuds/addie_cakes
Summary: The night before Javier packs up to fly back to Spain, he makes one drunken declaration and has to own up to it.





	1. Chapter 1

Wow, he hates drinking.

Which is why he keeps doing it, because he hates himself that much.

Javier is feeling nostalgic, and he doesn’t want to deal with it, so he goes to the store and buys the largest, most obnoxious-looking bottle of blue alcohol. Kinky Blue, or something. He doesn’t know, and it smells too sweet and too strong, so he pulls out a glass, anyway, and pours out enough for a large glass to save for later, and then he returns his attention back to the bottle.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel the effects of drunken blue raspberries against his sensibilities, and Javier sits down, cross-legged, on his hardwood floor and begins to scroll through any and all social media he can find. He runs a hand through his hair, greasy and wavy and catching at the ends, and he yawns into his other hand while he continues to scroll. 

Is he actually so desperate that he just uses the little magnifying glass on his Twitter? To just _search_ for something? Yeah, he is. News has been dead lately, and he doesn’t have enough courage to just slip on his running shoes and go see anyone. 

This is probably the last night that he’ll be staying in Toronto (it is, but “probably” sounds so much less terrifying), and Javier can’t force himself to finish packing away his things. He began before he left for the Olympics, because he knew that, win or lose, he needed to be going home. And he still does, but now it all just seems so much more definitive that it’s scary, and he’s scared—petrified—terrified—and he both wants to get away now, fly back to Spain at this very second, but he also wants to hunker down and never leave.

He can’t do either, so he settles for Twitter. 

_Yuzuru Hanyu_.

The search brings the usual responses—the “daily reminder that I love ____” tweets, the photographs of Yuzuru in his newest exhibition costume, the updates and the complaints about the kid (is he still just a kid? No, he’s a full-fledged adult, even though he acts like a child sometimes. Giggles like one, too). Javier smiles at the pictures, and he doesn’t realize that he’s smiling too widely until his cheeks start to hurt.

He really wants to leave, but he can’t, so he takes another long drink and then looks through his contacts. It’s one in the morning—people are always up for phone calls at that time. Right?

First, he calls someone who isn’t dealing with a “one in the morning” situation—it’s more like, two in the morning, and Miki picks up on the second ring. “Hello?” she asks in a somewhat perplexed tone. It’s not confused, and it’s not unpleasant, but it makes him feel terrible nonetheless.

He opens his mouth to say something, but years of memories come flooding back to him, and he realizes that no amount of talking or reminiscing or asking about the weather will make him feel any better because Miki’s got her own life. She’s got herself and her daughter, and she’s happy, really happy, and what kind of monster would he be to ruin that? Besides, she’s gotten a new phone, because she doesn’t even know who’s calling right now. 

So there’s that. Javier clamps his mouth shut, and he immediately presses the red button on his phone. Tilting his head back, and feeling just a little sicker, the young (old) man tries to convince himself to just stop while he’s ahead. No one’s been hurt yet, and he hasn’t even wounded his own spirit yet. If he pushes the line too hard, then he’s undoubtedly going to break some hearts, his own included.

Without even hesitating, he calls Brian. His coach, of course, is trying to sleep at this hour, and Javier feels insanely guilty already, but he doesn’t hang up. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to get out of Toronto, doesn’t want to give everything up just yet. He’s not ready, he can’t be ready to leave. He still has so much to say, so much to do, so many people to talk to, and maybe Brian can give him a little bit of extra insight. Or he can tell Javier that he’s being an idiot. Maybe he’ll even convince Javier to make him keep competing, just a little bit longer.

_Pleasepleaseplease_ make him stay.

“Javi…what is it?” Brian asks, voice muffled with sleep. 

Again, Javier hesitates. He doesn’t even know what he wants at this point, but Brian always has. Brian’s always been able to tell him what to do and where to go and how to change his tactics to get what he wants. At this point, Brian knows Javier better than Javier knows himself. 

“…I’m sorry—“ Javier begins, and he supposes that Brian finds it ridiculously scary for Javier to apologize because he rarely does. 

Maybe Javier’s egotistical like that, in that he’s decided a while ago that he’s going to stop apologizing.

Brian says, “Javi, what’s wrong? Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over there?” Brian’s concerned, obviously worried, and it’s a heartwarming idea, that a coach could care so much for his students. Briefly, Javier wants to say that he doesn’t deserve that kind of care, but he doesn’t say it. If he vocalizes the thought to the universe, maybe everyone else will start thinking it, too. 

Laughing lightly, Javier shakes his head, though Brian can’t see it. “No, no, I was just—just packing up, and…I don’t know, I guess I was just getting…sentimental,” he manages, though he knows that he’s stumbled over the last word. Actually, he’s probably stumbled over every word, but Brian’s too nice to mention it.

For a few seconds, Brian doesn’t say anything, and Javier half-worries that he’s already set on his way to go see what had gotten Javier so worked up (and so tipsy-sounding, too). Fortunately, though, Brian knows that Javier’s an adult, and he’s allowed to make his own stupid decision on his own, so he doesn’t press the subject any further. Instead, the older man just says, “…alright. Well, just remember, Javi—you’ve always got a room with me, okay? If you ever want to come back.”

_If._ Worst world in the word, if anyone asks Javier. It means that nothing’s set in stone, that it doesn’t even exist yet, and there’s nothing that Javier can do to bring it into creation. So he just breathes out a chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind, Brian. Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course. Hey, listen, Javi—we’re really going to miss having you here. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Of course I won’t.” Of course he will.

Javier hangs up, and he glares at the bottle in front of him. “You’ve been making me make bad decisions,” he mutters, picking it up, anyway, and drinking from it. He hates how much he needs it right now, how it gives him courage and words and the strength to press the one contact that’s been intimidating him this whole time.

Seems right, that even Yuzuru’s very name freaks him out. 

He waits for the younger man to answer, and Javier can’t decide if he actually wants him to answer. Yuzuru’s probably asleep, and when he sleeps, he _sleeps_ , so if he doesn’t hear his phone ringing, no one can blame him. But—but Javier needs to talk to him, just once more, before he leaves. It feels so final now, even though he knows that he’ll be able to see Yuzuru again at future ice shows. But they won’t be training together, won’t be living in the same city, won’t be occupying the same rink anymore. 

But on the flip side, maybe Yuzuru will finally stop occupying Javier’s every waking moment. Maybe Yuzuru—for all his ambition and greed and humor and beauty and grace and clumsiness and obliviousness and aloofness and naivety and bluntness—maybe he would finally leave Javier alone. Maybe all those “maybes” and “ifs” and “probably’s” would stop plaguing Javier’s sleep. Maybe he might stop drinking terrible blue drinks, if that were the case. Maybe, too, if they were far enough away from each other, Javier would fall out of love with Yuzuru Hanyu.

Singlehandedly, Yuzuru has consistently been the one to ruin Javier's life and to give it meaning in the same giggly breath. He's a living contradiction, that guy. That Yuzuru is so steely strong and so flimsy is evident of that fact. And when he smiles, Javier can feel his world begin to make sense more than it usually does, but he also sees mountains crumble in front of him. He hopes that Yuzuru doesn't even realize what he's doing half the time; no man should know that he has that much power.

If someone could convince Javier to stay, and it would be very easy to at this point, then he thinks that he'll reconsider that thought he once had that Yuzuru was untouchable. He's very touchable, he  _wants_ to be touched. Yuzuru craves attention, and he craves hands all over him. He wants to be adored and needed and desired, and he's always wanted Javier to be the one to lust after him like that, primally and with abandon, but Javier's never granted him that kind of gratification. 

He probably loves Yuzuru too much—that's why he won't touch him. Javier touches himself, sometimes, when he thinks about Yuzuru. Smooth skin and dark eyes and shiny hair and spindly fingers and everything, but that's all Javier will give himself. It's all he ever thought he needed, but now that he's half a suitcase away from leaving it all, he's starting to think that all that was his own way of restricting himself. Resisting Yuzuru was a goal in and of itself, and if he's all the way in Spain, then there's really no barrier to overcome. 

It feels meaningless.

What he wants is to be indifferent—sometimes he’s utterly in love with Yuzuru, and sometimes he kind of hates the guy, but he can never just exist in the same space as Yuzuru without feeling anything, and oh—what he wouldn’t give for that.

_You have reached the voicemail box of…_

Javier blinks back to reality, and he lets out a small gasp. He remembers, too, that Yuzuru’s due bak to fly into Toronto. Of course he’s not available to talk. Javier smiles bitterly, and he takes another large swig of his alcohol. It burns, and it’s making his stomach churn, but he likes it now, so that’s kind of nice. Yuzuru's kind of nice.

When he hears the beep, he reminds himself to hang up.

If only he ever learned to listen to himself.

_“Hey, Yuzu, it’s me. Javi. I was just—I just wanted to call, ‘cause I know that you’re coming back, and I’m leaving, so I guess we’re going to miss each other, huh? That seems about right…anyway, I just wanted to tell you that…that I’m really gonna miss you. I don’t know if you’ll miss me. Probably not. You’ve got a lot of friends coming your way, so you won’t need me, anymore. But…yeah, I think your voicemail’s gonna shut off soon, so…I just wanted to call and say bye. And that I love you, a little bit, I think. Or a lot, I don’t know. Anyway, call me back. Bye—“_


	2. Chapter 2

_“Hey, Yuzu, it’s me. Javi. I was just—I just wanted to call, ‘cause I know that you’re coming back, and I’m leaving, so I guess we’re going to miss each other, huh? That seems about right…anyway, I just wanted to tell you that…that I’m really gonna miss you. I don’t know if you’ll miss me. Probably not. You’ve got a lot of friends coming your way, so you won’t need me, anymore. But…yeah, I think your voicemail’s gonna shut off soon, so…I just wanted to call and say bye. And that I love you, a little bit, I think. Or a lot, I don’t know. Anyway, call me back. Bye—“_

He plays the message again, eyes still wide. Of course, Yuzuru can’t look over at his mom. Luckily, she’s asleep, too, sitting beside him as they wait for their cab to come. It’s too early in the morning to think about calling Brian to pick them up, though the older man had sincerely offered about three times already. 

Now, though, Yuzuru’s wishing he had reconsidered, because he needs to get somewhere and _fast_ but he can’t just leave his mother here, and he certainly can’t tell where he wants to go. He can already envision it—her eyes, dark and tired and worried, because this is just another thing that Yuzuru’s obsessing over. He does that, too, getting wrapped up into too many things at once.

But Javier. Well, he’s always been different. He’s always been a sort-of goal for Yuzuru. And at first, his relationship (if he can even call it that now) began like anything else in Yuzuru’s life—as an obstacle. Javier was older than him, but he always seemed so unfocused, and then he started training with Brian Orser and suddenly he’s making magic out there and he’s got this quad that Yuzuru needs to get his hands on it. Call it obsession, call it greed, call it _falling in love at second sigh_ t, call it anything, but...but Yuzuru finds Brian, convinces him to take him on as a student, and everything changes.

Javier was nicer than Yuzuru expected him to be. He expected explosions and misgivings or at least a rivalry; after all, Yuzuru was the young hotshot who was encroaching on his territory, but Javier was gracious. He was kind, and he was funny, and he was contagiously friendly that every thought that Yuzuru had had of making Javier’s life more difficult seems to go right out the window.

So he ruins Javier’s life in other ways, apparently. Yuzuru just never thought that he did, until now. Now, when he can hear the bitterness in Javier’s voice, the lilt of a man drunk with alcohol and with love, the uncertainty and the wistfulness and the thousands of other emotions that have wormed their way into Javier’s psyche.  

He deserves it. Javier deserves to be miserable.

Yuzuru’s been hanging off him for years. Hugging him, holding him, laying his head against Javier—he’s done it all, and yet Javier’s never seemed to gotten the hint. What did Yuzuru have to do? Show up to his apartment, naked, and beg Javier to pound him senselessly and crudely into a mattress?

...it's not a bad idea.

Now Javier's gotten the point, apparently, finally, but it all seems too little and too late.

Strange, though, that it isn’t _,_ and not by a long shot. Yuzuru sits up a bit more when he thinks about it all. Javier’s leaving, and he’s going to be gone, and Yuzuru’s so _mad_ at him right now that all his blood’s boiling, and if he doesn’t say something now then he may not get the chance for a long time. He knows that his ride will be here soon, and Yuzuru’s tired, and there’s nothing more that he would like to do than get to go back to his apartment and catch up on some sleep, but he can’t—not if this is his last chance to yell at Javier.

Javier’s not due to arrive at the airport for another four hours, and it’s shaping up to be the longest four hours of Yuzuru’s life…that’s a life. He’s had longer waits, and he knows that, but this seems pretty unbearable, too. 

(Somehow, he convinces his mother to take the cab back to the apartment by herself. She’s confused but doesn’t argue, probably because she sees that look in her son’s eyes—hurt, wounded, upset, frustrated, determined—it’s one she’s seen many times before. Yuzuru will do as he pleases; he doesn’t even have to come up with a terribly fake excuse as to why he feels the need to stay in an airport for an extended amount of time. She probably already knows why).

Now Yuzuru’s alone, and he thinks that he has the best mother, but he’s still very mad and he sits, hands folded together but legs spread out wider in a sort of power stance. 

…but that’s not how he wants Javier to see him.

No, he should look better. Getting up, Yuzuru hurries to the bathroom so he can try to fix his hair. He’s gross and tired and rumpled and greasy, and he stares at the mirror in horror when he notices the beginnings of a blemish on his left cheek. Strange. He doesn’t remember having it an hour ago, and he won’t rule out the possibility that it’s Javier’s fault that he has a new pimple. 

When he pushes a hand through his hair, Yuzuru is somewhat grateful for its current oiliness; at least it holds its shape a bit. 

God, that’s gross.

Grimacing, Yuzuru digs through his bag, and he realizes that he’ll have to settle for staying in the same set of clothes that he’s been wearing the last…ten-ish hours. He’s got deodorant, though, and body spray, so at least he doesn’t smell badly. 

Smacking his cheeks to add a bit more color, Yuzuru finally pulls away and admires his reflection. He’s handsome and he knows it, but he’s always thought that Javier’s just been impervious to his charms all this time. The thought’s never actually occurred to him, that Javier could have been lying this whole time. He’s always known the older man to be honest and transparent, but hey—things change.

He gets back to his seat and plops down, lifting his hand to check his watch with blurry eyes. He hates this, waiting for Javier. Javier should be waiting for him. Yuzuru’s never waited for a person a day in his life, and now Javier Fernandez has got the crazy idea in his head that he can just leave a stupid voicemail on Yuzuru’s phone and _expect_ the younger man to wait up for him. 

It’s a dangerous game, betting on a prideful man’s pride. 

Against his will, and only because he’s bone-deep-tired, Yuzuru drifts off into a semi-restless sleep. The kind of sleep where he can see what’s going on but can hardly summon the strength to lift an eyelid. Although he tells himself to set an alarm on his phone _or call Javier_ , Yuzuru is stubborn even when he’s barely conscious, so he doesn’t. Actually, he leaves it up to fate. 

If he’s supposed to see Javier, then he’ll wake up. If not, then—then that’s it. Then that’s all they are. Friends, with complicated feelings for each other.

As he dozes, Yuzuru imagines what his response will be. Javier’s said that he’s in love with Yuzuru, but he said it when he was drunk. Does it still count? Maybe he’s just upset. Maybe he’s thinking about someone else, and _Yuzuru_ just pops into the discussion. The old memory bank. 

He thinks he smirks in his sleep—maybe that’s what he should be to Javier. A memory. Maybe that’s what Javier’s wanting him to be. Talking about his feelings now, at the eleventh hour…he’s probably just trying to clear his conscience so he can leave Toronto and go back to living normally, where he won’t be constantly bombarded by images and thoughts and sounds of Yuzuru. It’s fair, really, if Yuzuru really has been tormenting Javier’s heart as long as he thinks he has. 

It's fair on both sides, too. Too long has Javier been the constant pressing in Yuzuru's mind, the pressing guilt, the pressing bodies, the pressing urge to give up on all his restrictions and self-sacrifices and claim Javier as another one of his priceless, shiny things. Javier's always been too many things all at once. They need time apart from each other.

_And that I love you, a little bit, I think. Or a lot, I don’t know._

He _thinks_ that he’s in love. He might not even be in love. 

…or he might be. Irrevocably and impossibly and head-over-heels in love. But Javier doesn’t know. How could he, when he’s up against someone like Yuzuru, who has an ugly habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length. 

So when he does collapse against someone in a mess of emotions and tears and desperate shakes of the head, how’s Javier supposed to take it? Is Yuzuru crying for him, or for himself? Even the young man has to admit, subconsciously, that he’s never been fair to Javier. He’s selfish; he wants Javier but won’t give himself in return. But Yuzuru’s always had so many goals, so many unfair expectations for himself that he’s never had the time to rely completely on anyone else. It’s all paid off for him, except for now, when he’s decided that he loves Javier, too. A lot. 

_Call me back._

That means that Javier doesn’t actually want to talk about it face-to-face, man-to-man, right then and there. He wants to let the information settle and simmer and come to a boil. Or maybe people are just supposed to say that out of a courtesy and not actually because they meant it. Classic Javier, to be nice even when he’s trying to say goodbye for-probably-ever.

He loves him, too.

Yuzuru’s eyes snap open, and he nearly shrieks when he sees that Javier’s sitting beside him, wide-eyed. The older man’s wearing his glasses, and his hair's a wavy, pretty mess, and he’s got all his luggage, but apparently he’s just been relaxing there for—who knows when, actually. 

Javier adjusts himself so that he’s just sitting normally, and he lets out a long sigh, decompressing. “…sorry. I was just—I saw you here, but I didn’t see your mom, I just—I wanted to make sure you were alright.” He wrings his hands together, and Yuzuru arches an eyebrow. His friend certainly doesn’t _sound_ drunk. As if able to tell what Yuzuru’s thinking without having to ask, the older man breathes out a laugh. “I’ve been drinking a lot of coffee. I’ll sleep on the plane.”

Nodding, Yuzuru rolls his shoulders and winces at the tightness he feels in his neck. He desperately needs a good bed, but he probably won’t get to lie down for another few hours. He’s not tired, though, not when he’s right next to Javier, where the electricity between them is palpable and dangerously charged.

“…I got your message.”

“Figured. Listen—“

Before Javier can speak, though, Yuzuru’s turned a fierce glare on him. If he doesn’t say what he wants to now, then he’ll probably never find the nerve to do it later. “You can’t just _call_ someone with stuff like that! Not when you’re drinking, not when you’re sober, not when they’ve just gotten out of a very long plane ride, and not when they’re just a couple minutes away! You have to…to ease someone into that—“ He’s moving his hands rapidly as he rambles, occasionally flicking his gaze back to Javier to make sure he’s still there. “And you were just going to leave me with that, too! Weren’t you?”

It’s shame that he sees cross Javier’s face, and Yuzuru only feels guilty for a second. He’s still mad enough to negotiate his emotions, and if Javier wants him to ruin his life, then he’ll ruin it. 

“Yuzuru—“

He’ll ruin Javier’s life irreconcilably so. He’ll crumble it and burn it and break it and level it and—and he feels like crying, but he won’t let himself do that right now. 

“Did you ever think that I love you, too? And now you’re just—you’re just _leaving_ without even…” Yuzuru trails off, because they both know what he’s going to say.

_saying goodbye?_

The younger man stares at the ground, wishing that Javier were drunk so that they could both pretend this isn’t happening. He’s mad at Javier, more mad than he’s ever been before.

He knows this, because he’s never been mad at Javier before. Javier is good, he’s safe, he’s always been safe, but he’s suddenly gone and said something that makes Yuzuru feel as if he doesn’t know where his footing’s supposed to be anymore. He’s unsteady, and he’s sad, and he’s tired. 

And there’s Javier, sitting next to him, watching him nervously with the biggest, brownest eyes and the longest, darkest lashes, and he’s got the kind of face that Yuzuru wants to kiss each and every day, but they’ve been wasting too much time and playing chicken for so many years—Javier’s leaving now, and who knows when he’ll be back, so if Yuzuru tells him what he wants to hear now, then who’ll be the one hurting?

It’ll be Yuzuru, undoubtedly. Javier gets to leave, and if he’s got a promise of something with Yuzuru, then he’ll be content. But if Yuzuru has to let him go now, then he’s the one who’s going to have to deal with all the loneliness and heartache. 

If he were more of a dramatic person (Yuzuru Hanyu? Dramatic? Never), then Yuzuru might think about actually crying and pressing his face against Javier’s chest and beating lightly against it while he _curses_ the ground that Javier Fernandez walks on, but—but he’s not that egotistical, so Yuzuru settles for glaring at him. “So what would you say? If I said I loved you, too?”

Javier blinks. “…I’d say that you were crazy.”

Yuzuru bites his lip in response. “…I’m crazy.” He says it simply, as if it’s always been in front of him and that it’s so easy to admit. And it is; he loves Javier. Javier loves him. They’re idiots, and they always have been, skirting around each other and teasing and touching but never holding on for dear life. 

They need help.

He doesn’t say anything, but Javier stands and pulls Yuzuru along with him. His fingers are soft but strong, curling against the younger man’s hand. When Javier lets go, Yuzuru doesn’t know what to do; all he manages is an open-mouthed stare. So he looks extra delectable and dumb.

But Javier doesn’t seem to notice. He just smiles lightly as he lets go of Yuzuru’s hand. With the absolute gentlest of touches, the older man lets his hand rest against Yuzuru’s cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the smooth skin, expressing melting when the other leans into the touch. If this is as close as they’re going to get, then it’s all got to be worth it. If all they can do is say that they love each other and share a little touch now and then, then Yuzuru’s got to convince himself that he’s fine with that.

—It’s what he wants to tell himself, right until Javier leans in, gently pressing their lips together. His lips are soft, not as soft as Yuzuru’s, of course, but it’s an amazing feeling. 

Maybe it’s strange, that neither of them close their eyes, but they’ve got to look each other right in the eyes. 

Despite the fact that the both of them have avoided addressing what they’ve felt for each other for the past, say, three years (more, for Yuzuru, but he opts to round down), neither of them have been known to shy away from any kind of challenge. Javier’s always been bold, and Yuzuru’s brash, so the pair refuse to back down from this last obstacle. 

Yuzuru doesn’t want this moment to end, it feels so right, but he lets Javier pull away.

As much as he wishes that he could just ask Javier to miss his plane, to say that he’ll stay in Toronto, to stick around for Yuzuru and Yuzuru’s sake only, he can’t. They’re both adults, and Javier’s missing home. He’s had a long career, a hard one, too, and Yuzuru hasn’t got the heart to make it any more trying. That’s what is absolutely horrible about being in love; selfish people have to think less of themselves. 

“…tell me to stay,” Javier pleads as he presses his forehead against Yuzuru’s. This time, the younger man lets his eyes slide shut.

He’s tired, and he wants Javier to stay. Of course he does. He wants nothing more than that. 

But Yuzuru’s never been good at listening to Javier, so he just shakes his head, a small and sad smile curving onto his lips. “No,” he mutters, hating the sound of his voice. “…you already bought the ticket.” He is surprised, how easily and quickly the two of them have been able to move from _I love you_ to kissing to figuring out the rest of their lives, but it’s fair, too, since they’ve had to spend so much time actually getting to this point. 

Besides, he thinks this part—letting Javier go—will be so much harder.

“It’s just money.”

“And it's just me. You want to go home. We’re always going to be here. You can…you can go home, and then you can visit, okay?”

Javier hesitates. They both know that, as soon as he lets go, he’s actually got to leave. Eventually, though, a long sigh escapes his lips, and Javier drops his head onto Yuzuru’s shoulder. “It's never  _just_ you.”

“…I love you, Javi.” So that Javier doesn’t have to, Yuzuru pulls away from him. He feels like his insides are crumbling, even though he had had every intention of doing the same to Javier. But he can’t. Stupid, stupid love. He’s already hating it. 

But he loves Javier.

“I _am_ going to visit,” Javier promises. “Okay? I’m going to be here so much that Brian’s just going to have to get it over with and hire me. And—and we’re going to talk this all over, okay?”

Nodding, Yuzuru shrugs. “You don’t want to miss your flight.” He’s not really sure if he believes that he and Javier are going to discuss the nature of _whatever_ they are anytime soon, but he’s fairly grateful that he’s at least gotten one kiss out of it. Maybe he’ll visit, and maybe he won’t, but for just this one second, perhaps the first time in what seems like forever, Yuzuru knows where he stands.

There’s nothing else to say, so Javier just grabs his bags and squares his shoulders; he’s preparing himself for the next part of his life, after all. And he’s definitely scared, but at least he’s not a coward. He begins to walk away, and Yuzuru bites down on his lip, harder this time, to stop himself from crying. At least he’s happy for Javier. Sort of.

He jumps when his phone rings. Yuzuru glances down at the device, brows furrowing. “Javi?” he asks, and he looks right up at the older man, who’s only about a hundred feet away and staring right at him.

Javier waves lightly. “Call me back.” 

Rolling his eyes, Yuzuru nods and hangs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of this! Hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!


End file.
